


I'll Gently Rise and Softly Call

by dorothynotfromkansas



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death, Drinking, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Dynamics, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Reboot, Slow Burn, a mixture of events and timelines, knighfall stuff, more tags will be added with each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorothynotfromkansas/pseuds/dorothynotfromkansas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm horrible at summaries. </p><p>Bruce and Alfred are gone. The world is without a Batman, and a family is without a father and leader. Grief is an ugly foe that always seems to win. The Batfamily is broken, and the world just isn't quite as safe as before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here it goes! Hope it doesn't suck. I, of course, own none of the characters or events mentioned or referenced. Thank the good folks at DC Comics for that one. :)

Dick Grayson planned on doing something that he usually saved for special occasions; he was going home with all intensions on staying in for the night. His Nightwing uniform was locked away in his spare room surely covered in dust. Becoming Nightwing had felt so right and he always felt at home on the rooftops and in the shadows, but now the shadows were no longer his safe place and the uniform didn’t feel right on his body.

The double lock on his loft door clicked into place behind him before the harsh sound from metal hitting metal echoed through the empty space. With a quick serge of pain shooting through his frontal lobe he refrained from throwing his keys onto his stainless steel counters. The industrial feel from his kitchen bled into the den and followed along the open space to the sliding glass doors that blocked off his bedroom. He hadn’t slept in his bed in weeks. Hell he hadn’t slept at all since the event in Gotham. He scoffed because calling it an event was something Bruce would have done. It was a cold and detached way to look at a tangible nightmare.  
Shrugging off his BHPD uniform, his mind flooded with thoughts he normally kept buried. Each time he revisited that night it deepened the wound and took a little more of what will and sanity he had left. The detective in him scraped through every conversation and fight with the finest of combs reaching and grasping for any bit of information. As usual there was no peace to be found. He craved for anything to ease the ache he felt down to his marrow. He kept looking. A part of him would always keep looking until he was either completely numb or riddled with madness. 

The hot water of his shower amplified the scent of sweat and Kevlar. Rough hands lathered together before running over scarred flesh, trying their best to scrub away the remnants of the day . His own body acted as another nail in his proverbial coffin of suffering. Each raised line and discolored area acted as visual aid for the events of his life. More than half of the damage to his body had been inflicted with Bruce by his side or in his ear. They were a part of him that he had taken solace in; knowing that someone else’s skin was unmarked because he saved them. The scars were foreign to him now. He didn’t want them. Dick had learned that the mighty do fall, and now he knew that sometimes they didn’t get back up. Ignoring the slack in his knees, he hurriedly finished his shower and wrapped a towel low on his hips.  
The truth was Batman was gone. No trace, no evidence, and no clues as to the destination or underlying plan. The world had learned that Batman and Bruce Wayne were one in the same, and now they had lost them both. The Great Detective, Billionaire, Savior, Playboy, and Dark Knight were all gone in a cloud of smoke and fire, but Dick had lost so much more in those flames. He lost a mentor, trainer, friend, and adoptive father along with the only home Dick could clearly remember. He lost the cornerstone of that home as well, a man that was so much more than a damned butler, Alfred. Both of the men who raised him were now gone. He felt like the lost little boy at Haly’s Circus again 

Emerging from the steam filled bathroom, his wet feet carried him back into the main space leaving small puddles in his wake. It was all too much pain to process and his struggle had manifested in a constant scowl and quick temper.

“Are you ignoring me or did you really not pick up that I’ve been here for the better part of five minutes?” Dick squared his shoulders trying to hid the fact that he had jumped. Tim Drake, the third Robin, now wore his new identity of Red Robin fully equipped with a black cowl and cape that fell just short of the floor. The costume may have been different, but the hopeful voice was always the same.

“Would you believe me if I said I was ignoring you?” The contents of the fridge made muffled clinks before Dick stepped away with an open beer. 

“I would if you hadn’t jumped.” Tim shut the window and spoke to Oracle through his ear piece telling her to reequip the alarm system. Well that answered how the other male had gotten in, and Dick would have been offended if Barbara hadn’t designed the system in the first place.

“What do you want, Tim?” Dick collapsed on his leather couch letting his head rest and eyes slip closed. Lifting the beer to his lips he swallowed the bitter liquid savoring the taste as it traveled down his throat. 

“You...you just haven’t answered my calls or Barbara’s. We’ve been worried about you.” Tim slipped the cowl off of his head with a sigh. Eyes that were a shade or two lighter than Dick’s focused on the floor. “We need your help if we are gonna find out what happened. We need your help to find them…and we need…we just want you to come home, Dick. Gotham is-“Tim stopped, his head shot up just as his jaw went slack. Dick was laughing. It was a strangled sound filled with gravel but it was still a laugh. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Dick sat up and placed the bottle on the floor. The laugh had hurt and he could tell it struck several nerves, but it was either laugh or breakdown. Dick knew he wouldn’t be able to cry. He hadn’t cried since the event, and at this point he doubted if he had tears left at all. “There is no ‘home’ anymore, and you’re honestly wasting your time. There is nothing to find or I would have already found it. Take my advice just one more time and move on.”

Tim clinched fists at his sides. The words were hard to process and caused a lump to form in his throat. He had never seen Dick so defeated and cold, even with all they had been through.

“You can’t sit there and tell me you think they are dead. Dick we are talking about Bruce! He always has a plan and Gotham still needs us. You can’t just push all that aside. We have a job to do. That hasn’t changed. ”

“They are dead, Tim. Dead. He isn’t coming back.” Dick rose to his feet, giving his bare back to the male. A firm grip on his shoulder forced him around to meet angry, darkened eyes. Tim was almost eye level with him now and he had filled out with lean muscle. The world saw a hardened man where Dick would always see a boy with bright eyes that had always been too damn smart.

“This is your idea of ‘moving on’ and dealing with it? You’re giving up! He is out there somewhere. Why the hell are you so quick to write him off and act like none of us matter? We are your family! Jason is going around Gotham killing every person he deems as bad and how long before Damian comes back with questions we don’t have answers for? We have got to stick together to bring him back. We can’t abandon what he worked so hard to build.”

“Even if he is alive he didn’t tell us. Are you ready for that?” Anger consumed him as he forced Tim back with a rough shove. “He is either dead or he abandoned us! So fuck off and let me morn my way while you and Barbara grasp at a false hope until the both of you wake up and understand the bigger fucking picture. Death is easier to accept than being forgotten by choice. You have no right coming here and placing the blame on me. I can’t support all of you! When Damian decides to show up the only thing you need to tell him is that his father is dead. Jason’s actions are his own and he isn’t my problem anymore! None of you are! Don’t you get it?” His voice faded from a scream into a sigh. “We were never a family. We were stitched together by a common thread and now we have all been cut loose. Do yourself a favor and hang up that costume and try to take back some of what that city took from you. We don’t owe Gotham anything, Tim. That city owes us, and if that shit-hole burns to the ground then let it! Let Bruce, Alfred, Batman, Robin, the mission, and Gotham die. It finally killed Bruce and Batman, don’t let it take you too. ”

Tim wiped at his eyes before shoving Dick out of his way. Jerking his cowl into place his whole body vibrated from the verbal lashing. “You really learned from the best didn’t you, Dick?” The words were whispered. “I thought none of us were ever gonna be able to turn off our feelings like he did, but even in his ‘death’ you’re still trying to make him proud.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Gotham has taken a lot from all of us but that’s where your family will be. I won’t give up. I don’t care if the mission kills me. If I have to become Batman then fine! But if Gotham burns then I will burn with it.” Finishing with small tears trapped between his cowl and skin, Tim opened the window and jumped into the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ^^This will be edited further later. If there are any mistakes please know that I am not illiterate and I will fix them. Forgive me. 
> 
> This happens directly after Chapter 1. Enter Jason who has been painting Gotham red and Roy Harper who has been narrowly avoiding alcohol poisoning.

Jason Todd was rarely taken by surprise, and even fewer times where he had been captured. This day has to be one for the fucking record books, he thought. There was a sharp pain in his left thigh and judging by the way his breath was hitting his face there was something over his head. “Dammit.” The texture and weight were all wrong. So he had his ass kicked, been shot with something, and was now somewhere drafty without his helmet. “Dammit.” 

“Easy over there buddy. You’re gonna fill up my swear jar.” Jason recognized the voice before the second syllable. “Now let’s agree to play nice. I cut you some slack on the rope tying business so you should be able to Houdini your way outta the knot in no time. So no need to Jean Claude Van Dam me when you get free.” Before he could start shouting obscenities at his former partner and friend, Roy jerked whatever the hell was on his head off. The light was bright, but he blinked through the slight pain as his vision adjusted. Roy sat across from him with his feet propped up on the low table. To say the room was a dump would be a compliment and it obviously charged by the hour. The air smelled like lighter fluid and a whole lot of mistakes. Jason would have guessed they were off of 4th and trade, but it could be 6th street. He was choosing to blame whatever the hell had knocked him out for the confusion. 

“Probably should have made the ropes a challenge, Harper.” A slow smirk played across the younger man’s face just before he presented his now free hands. “You even gonna try to explain yourself before I cross the room and kick your ass?” 

Roy rubbed his several days’ worth of five o’clock shadow. He looked disheveled, but Roy had been working on perfecting the ‘I don’t give a shit and it shows’ look for a few years so it was no cause for alarm. The red head lifted his trucker hat and pushed a few loose strands behind his ears before shoving it back on. Jason noted that his hair now touched his shoulders and his face had discolorations painted across his cheekbones and left eye. At least he had managed to hit the fucker a few times before his world had turned black. 

“Jay,” The nickname sounded weak. “You know why I’m here and you know who sent me. Use that big bat brain of yours and put some pieces together, okay?”

“Barbara sent you.” It wasn’t a question and he wasn’t surprised. “Gotta say she is getting creative with her take down methods. I hadn’t guessed she would have used you.” Roy leaned to the floor and lifted a bottle of scotch to his mouth. The brown liquid sloshed against glass before being turned on its head against Roy’s lips. “Drinking on the job. Tsk Tsk, Oracle will be very disappointed Arsenal.” 

“I didn’t come here as Arsenal, Jason.” Roy spit, a few drops of the scotch trickled through the hairs on his chin. “I came because it’s you. “ The bottle shook by the older man’s head. “And I know a thing or two about falling off the wagon.” Roy stretched to his feet, bottle still in hand. “You’ve started holding back out there.” Jason’s blue-green eyes followed the archer’s lean frame to the window. His footsteps were oddly placed and out of sync. It didn’t take his ‘bat brain’ to gather that most of that bottle had been consumed since sunset. They say everyone has their skeletons. Jason had a twitchy trigger finger and the love of Roy’s life burned his throat and ate away at his liver. 

“Just because I don’t kill them all doesn’t mean I’m holding back.” Killing was easier. It was his way now. He was judge, jury, and executioner. Saved a lot of time and tax payer’s money or at least that’s what he told himself at night. He would never admit it out loud, but Bruce had been right about not being able to wash blood off of your hands. It was always there no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“Go tell that bullshit to someone else.” Roy scoffed through another swig before leaning on the window seal. “I’ve seen you gone man and I’ve seen you come back. Even if you don’t believe it yourself you want to come back up again.”

“Please tell me she is paying you extra for all the philosophy.” Jason stood up, his legs shaking for a brief moment. “Cause you’re in no position to tell me anything.” Roy shook his head as his shoulders fell. Jason raised a quizzical eyebrow once he realized Roy was in a red hoodie and jeans and not his uniform of red leather and Kevlar. 

“I told you I’m not here on business. This is personal. I feel for you guys. Bruce might have been a hard ass, but he was Batman. I wasn’t close enough to describe him more than that. You and Tim and Barbara and Steph and Damian…I can’t think of shit to say to make that better. I don’t know if he is still kickin’ or not, but I’m not gonna let my best friend end up choking on dirt.” The red head crossed the floor and placed the bottle down on the table. 

“You didn’t say Dick.” 

“What? That’s all you got from that?” 

“You didn’t say Dick. You listed all of us except him. Why?” Jason waited for a moment and soon realized his question wasn’t going to be answered that easily. “Why didn’t you say Dick? Barbara couldn’t beg the Boy Scout to come down here and get a little dirty with the gutter trash after all? Wha-“

“Stop.” Roy interjected. “Dick isn’t helping them. He hasn’t come back to Gotham since it happened.” Before Jason could muster up a question, Roy continued. “He doesn’t think there is much use in looking for a dead man.” Jason ran a hand over the white streak in his hair.  
“He isn’t even in Gotham?” Anger bubbled into the question and heavy boots hit the floor in a pace. “We don’t even have a body! How can he just accept it without their bodies?” 

Roy hid his smile under the bill of his hat. There he is, he thought, there is that hardheaded son of a bitch. He had his doubts about Jason once before, but the guy doesn’t take shit lying down. He is a fighter and as broken as he may be he is loyal. For the first time since Barbara had called him, Roy felt like everything was going to be okay. He couldn’t say one way or another on the Bruce subject, but Bruce wasn’t his fight or his mission. Roy’s mission was making sure that, that leather clad back was protected and the head under that red dome was on straight. 

“They need you, Red. Timmy is about to lose it. Barbara is trying to keep her shit together on top of worrying about everyone else’s shit. Looks like baby bat may not be coming home and Steph is tied up trying to find him. Even if Dick was there, they would still need you too.” Roy placed a strong hand on the other man’s shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “It’s a family thing. One way or another it’s a family thing. If it was Ollie I know you would be on my doorstep.”

“You stickin’ around for this shit storm?” Translated to ‘I need you here man’ in Roy’s ears. He didn’t bother hiding his smile this time.

“I’ve got front row seats and a backstage pass.” Jason met his friend’s eyes and nodded before looking down at the half empty bottle on the table. His fingers closed around the neck before he hurled it against the far wall. “I’m so glad I brought you to a rat motel. They probably won’t even notice the stain or the glass.” A crude laugh spilled through the room.

“If you’re with me I need all of you with me.” Jason tapped the side of Roy’s hat. “No more of that shit. You don’t drink and I don’t kill, alright? I’m gonna have to make that promise as soon as I walk through their door. Don’t make me break it.” The archer sobered noticing the fierceness in those hooded eyes. 

“Ditto, Red.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Please let me know what you think so far? I know it seems it bit robotic right now, but I promise everything will come together. Let me know what you think! And it's my first time writing any of these characters so have mercy. 
> 
> Thanks a ton!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara and Tim stuff. 
> 
> If kind of hate this chapter and will probably delete it and redo it. It sucks and I'm sorry.

Barbara Gordon leaned back as she pitched her glasses across her desk. Her bones were frozen in place and the muscles she could still feel were tight. Twelve hours straight in front of a computer screen will do that to a body she supposed. Another night was in the books and they were no closer to finding even the first clue or sign of anything. She had felt helpless only a handful of times in her life and she doubted she would ever be accustomed to the taste it left in her mouth. Wheelchair or not, she wasn’t a damn victim or some pawn to just sit by and watch the world around her collapse. 

Her father hadn’t raised a quitter, but neither had Bruce but one of his boys had thrown in the towel. Dick Grayson had spent most of his life leading various teams and preaching about family and truth. Where was the boy wonder now? The born leader had abandoned the family and the mission. That fact only fueled Barbara’s grief and determination. She shouldn’t have been surprised honestly. Dick had given up on something else over two years ago. There had been another promise he had broken and someone he had left behind. Her.   
Hands bit into her thighs as the memory resurfaced. She couldn’t feel the pain, but her knuckles were white before she let go. The team didn’t need a leader. They could manage without him. She could manage without him, but it wasn’t a matter of management. They all wanted him back because they had lost too much. Tim lost his dad, Jason was an orphan who lost his life only to be brought back, Stephanie lost almost all of her mind on more than one occasion, Damian, the child who was never allowed to be a child, lost a father, and she had lost the ability to walk. She was tired of losing; tired of all of them being shafted in life. 

If she had less pride she would have crumpled over into her lap and cried, but instead she gripped the wheels of her chair and rolled down a narrow hallway. The bathroom light was always on. Tim liked to pretend that the switch was broken. Barbara knew that the lie as for her sake because she couldn’t even begin to reach even the bottom of the plastic square. A small smile touched her lips. That boy was just too thoughtful for his own good. 

It took her a minute to pull herself into the small space, but she managed with a little bit of heave ho action. The safe house was a small garden home that sat on top of one of Gotham’s surrounding hills. Fifteen minutes from the heart of the city and perched so high the lights stretched for miles beneath. It was truly a beautiful view. Barbara lost hours at night just sitting on the porch watching the traffic clog up and the lights of the buildings flicker. If she closed her eyes and the breeze was right it was almost like being perched on top of the clock tower. 

Leaning over, she twisted the rusted knobs all while adjusting the temperature of the running water. She hated this part. A heavy sigh pushed passed her lips as she discarded her black top and bra before working on her pants. It used to take her twenty minutes to get herself out of her own clothes, but she had mastered the act since then. In her apartment bathing was easier. Her shower had a sliding door and a bench that ran wall to wall, but secluded safe houses didn’t exactly come with accommodations. 

The tension in her forearms and biceps doubled when she lifted her weight. Her shoulders felt as if they might shake loose of their sockets, but she managed to get her hips onto the porcelain of the bathtub. Pushing her chair back, she used her arms to lower herself into a seated position before sliding down. Once she was finally in the tub, she leaned forward and turned on the water taking a moment to adjust the water. A few moments later the curtain was pulled tight and her scarlet hair was sticking to her shoulders. 

Steam filled the room as the water rose along the walls of the deep tub. Tears peaked at the corners of her red rimmed eyes. They were not out of sadness, no she had cried far too many of those, these were angry. These days she was more anger than human. It had gotten so bad that she wasn’t sure who she was angry at anymore. Bruce? Herself? Dick? Everyone? She had given up trying to figure it out and just settled with being perpetually mad.

Her grip faltered around the bottle of shampoo but she didn’t let it fall into the water. “Focus Gordon.” It was nice when you could be your own personal cheerleader and it actually work. The next few minutes were spent lathering and rinsing her hair with various products and then a repeat on her body. Muscle memory is a beautiful auto-pilot, she thought. 

“Barb?” Tim’s voice carried down the hallway causing her to jump slightly. The boy was getting far too good at the stealth thing. 

“Bathroom. Curtain is pulled.” A few seconds after her voice echoed to his ears, she could hear his boots stopping on tile. “Find anything?”

“No.” If she could guess he was sliding down the wooden door and sitting just inside the doorway. He usually did that when she was bathing. It had struck her as a little odd and irritating at first and she had let him know on more than one occasion that she was completely capable of bathing without a babysitter. That wasn’t the issue though. Tim knew she was capable and he didn’t think she needed to be watched after. He just didn’t want to be alone in the house. It was why he insisted on sleeping in the living room. He didn’t want to feel trapped any more than she did. 

“Well I got Roy to track down Jason so we should hear something back before daylight. Stephanie called in saying that she may have found out where Damian was staying. So we did have some good developments today.” She delivered the news with a cheery voice as she settled in the warm water, letting it ease some of the fatigue. 

“That’s good, Barb. Really good.” She hated it when he forced himself to sound hopeful. It was a far cry from the real deal and it sounded all wrong. 

“Don’t let him get in your head, Tim. He’s upset and…he just needs more time. We won’t press him anymore and he might come around.” A thud sounded throughout the room as his head hit the door behind his back. Barbara leaned forward and pulled the plug before reaching out and grabbing a towel from the basket they kept just beside the tub. 

 

Tim listed to Barbara as the water drained. Being near the older female just made him feel whole again. She was one of the reasons he had made it this far without completely losing his mind or his will. Tim had looked up to her as Batgirl and now Oracle, but he loved her as Barbara. In more ways than one she had taken the role of mother, and God it had been right when he needed one of those.

“It’s fine. You were right. I shouldn’t have tried again. I’m gonna head to my room. If you need me just yell, okay?” He stood as the last bit of water drained from the bathtub. He resisted to urge to ask if she needed help. She didn’t need help and the offer would only piss her off.  
“Okay Tim. I’ll leave your blanket and pillow on the couch. I’ll be up for a little longer.” Tim nodded before walking down to his room. He stripped off his costume and threw the red and black mess onto his bed. He moved through the motions of taking a shower in the small bathroom that was attached to his small room. Wet footprints were pressed into the carpet behind him as he walked to his dresser. He left the light off and didn’t care if the shorts and t shirt he yanked on matched. Every night he tried to sleep in his bed, but usually within an hour he was in the living room listening to Barbara type until he dosed off. 

He was a fucking mess and he knew it. Jason was at least taking out some aggression and Damian had all but disappeared. Tim? He was the baby who was stuck in the middle of so much shit and nothing at all. His hands twisted in his freshly cut hair. It was shorter and easier to manage, or at least that’s what he told himself. He hadn’t cut it because Bruce had been asking him to for months before his death. Nope. Not at all. Forcing himself to the large bay window, he slipped onto the cushions. The action was just another routine that Tim had fallen into. He would sit here and look at the stars before he would reach to open the window, but he stopped just before he opened it. 

Tim knew that if he opened it he would call for his best friend and Conner would hear him. Conner would see him like this and try to help. It was wrong for Tim to avoid his friends, but it hadn’t been that long ago when it was Conner he was mourning. Tim scoffed slightly as he remembered how lost he was back then. “Well look at me now.” He whispered, hand still gripped onto the golden metal handle. He almost pulled his hand back and went to bed, but tonight had been different. The routine was broken. It never took him this long to let go and move away from the window. The breeze on his face came as a shock, but it was too late now. The window was opened and he needed someone or something to believe in again. 

“Conner…” He called out softly, hoping his best friend wouldn’t let him down. “Conner…” He called again just barely above a whisper. There was no way Conner would be able to hear him. Even Superman couldn’t hear a whisper from Kansas to Gotham, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to yell. He called out one more time just hoping that maybe Conner was close enough to hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said I kind of hate this chapter. I will probably redo it. Feedback is welcome. Sorry if there are mistakes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Supes and Clone Boy. Sorry I couldn't not write this chapter.

Clark sighed letting his feet land softly on the shingles of an unoccupied home. The hills outside of Gotham were a stark contrast of the city that lay stretched out underneath. The mess that was Gotham had been allowed to sit and flourish in its waste the last few months. With no Bat roaming the skies, it seemed the ill-fated city would soon crumble once and for all. Clark couldn’t bring himself to give up on his best friend’s mission. A smile touched his lips at the thought. Bruce would have given him a pointed look at such an open admission of affection, but it was the truth. He would give almost anything to look into the cold stare of his teammate one more time. Bruce had never been one for feelings and Clark had respected the boundaries for years. The cold wind rushed over his body and picked up his cape in slow waves. Boundaries meant nothing to him anymore. He simply wanted to tell his best friend he loved him. Of all the years of knowing the Bat and then of knowing the man under the cowl, Clark had never once told the man he loved him. Bruce wouldn’t have said it back. It wasn’t a question he needed more than a few milliseconds to answer. That part didn’t matter so much now. He wasn’t sure if it ever really mattered. He had memories of Bruce saving his ass more than a couple of times and just as many of him returning the favor. That’s what they were. Teammates. Brothers in arms. Bruce had mourned him once. Well mourned in his own way, Clark corrected mentally. He became fiercer and more determined in the days after Clark’s presumed demise. It was Clark’s turn. That was the real reason he patrolled through Gotham. That was his ‘thank you’ and his ‘I love you’. 

“Looks like it’s gonna be a long night, huh?” Conner’s voice was carried on the wind before the clone landed just behind Clark. Turning Clark met eyes that were identical to his own in color, but the depths were completely unique to the boy behind him.

“It’s always a long night.” Eyes scanned the horizon once more taking in small details even through the heavy fog. “I don’t know how he did it. Same streets. Same crimes over and over again. This city seems to breed in darkness.”

“Don’t go slipping into verse on me.” Conner sighed moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with his pseudo father. “Gotham is Gotham. I think people like me and you forget about the street level stuff sometimes. Gangs. Drug wars. We get too wrapped up in the clouds.” The words caused Clark to stiffen slightly.

“Yeah, that sounds like something he said to me once or twice before.” Letting the conversation die, Clark crossed his arms honing in all of his senses to the city. Connor followed suit acting as a shadow to the older man before he could catch himself and change positions. They stood like that for a solid ten minutes, not speaking or acknowledging the other’s presence. 

Connor heard the voice just above the sounds of nearby animals and hidden among the sound of sleeping neighbors. It was Tim. No question or doubt. Ice poured through Conner’s veins, body growing ridged before loosening. Tim hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. He hadn’t pushed the issue but he missed his best friend. Barbara had even grown annoyed with him calling to check up on the boy.   
If Clark had heard the whisper then the man was doing a damn good job of ignoring it. Licking his lips, Conner cleared his throat awkwardly. He looked to the East seeking out and instantly finding the safe house amidst the trees . 

“Go, son.” The endearment still felt off as it reached his ears, but Clark used it sparingly which was just one of the small favors the universe had given him. “Keep his head on straight.” Conner was rising into the night sky before Clark had finished. Giving him a nod that hopefully said the ‘thank you’ that had lodged in his throat, he sped toward the voice’s origins. 

The window was open. Wide fucking open. He was in Gotham almost every night and the window hadn’t even hinted to cracking, but there it was. Panes of glass stretched from the side of the house, dark curtains moving with the chill air. He was thankful that it didn’t take concentration to remain airborne because if it had he would be feet over ass on the ground. He knew what this meant. He remembered telling Tim that if he ever needed him to call out. He promised he would hear him. Until then it had been a promise that had never been tested by his friend. Sending a look up to the stars, Conner thanked whatever deity had blessed him with being at the right place and the right fucking time. Time to make good on his word. 

“Tim?” Conner’s voice was more than a little strangled as he lowered himself inside the gap of the window. The tired eyes that raised up to meet his own with sheer disbelief were enough to steal all of the oxygen from his lungs. Tim looked worn. More worn that usual. His hair had grown into unruly waves that hid the sides of his forehead and his cheeks. Conner hoped it was just the light from the street lamp or the moon that cast the smaller male in shades of sickly grey. 

“Wow. It worked.” The words slipped passed chapped lips and pulled Conner further in until he was crawling inside the dark room.   
“Tim…” He looked his friend over with critical eyes before softening. 

“I honestly didn’t expect you to hear me.” Taking a que of Clark’s book, Conner didn’t bother with explaining the technicalities of the how and why. He was here. That’s all that mattered. Tim didn’t need reasons right now. 

“A promise is a promise, Robin.” He forced the smirk, but judging by the soft scoff and ghost of a smile on Tim’s face he didn’t seem to notice. Conner was searching for words, any words to offer is best friend. Nothing seemed good enough or appropriate. He wanted to say he was sorry. He was so dammed sorry for the shit storm and that he had missed the shorter boy. God, he had missed him. The whole team did. He wanted to make sure Tim understood how important he was and that it was all going to be okay, but instead he stood there unable to say a word for fear of messing it up. Tim didn’t meet his eyes instead he moved and rested his forehead on Conner’s collar bone. The contact jolted him out of his thoughts with a tight shift of his shoulders. 

Tim didn’t look up. Hell the boy barely even moved, moving with Conner’s body when he had shifted. Strong arms closed around Tim hesitantly, pulling him close. Conner kept his neck ramrod straight not wanting any sudden movements to disturb his friend. In the end, he hadn’t needed words that night. Hell they both remained silent as they stood there with Conner holding Tim to his chest. Conner had almost lost it when he felt Tim’s shoulders shake giving away that he was crying. Conner held on letting his friend rest against him and fall apart at the seams. It felt like hours passed before they sank to the floor, Tim still in Conner’s hold as they rested against the bay window. 

The tears had only stopped when Tim had fallen asleep, face contorted with grief and chapped from tears. Conner didn’t move. Hell his arms had fallen asleep and his legs were tight from being bent awkwardly, but it would have taken an act of God before he even allowed himself to blink more than necessary. It was then that Conner decided that he would do whatever it took to fix his friend. He would be whatever Tim needed him to be. He would see his friend through to the other side of this nightmare.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this doesn't suck. If you have made it to the end thank you tons! I'm sorry for any mistakes as they are my own. I have trouble reading my own work and editing without just deleting the whole story. So if you would like to edit my chapters before I post them you would be my hero. But let me know what you think?


End file.
